Shatter
by Blonded
Summary: The history of the Joker has become such a twisted, broken tale that even he isn't entirely sure what happened. A shattered scenario of contradictions, in five parts.
1. For the Love of Me: Part I

_Author's Note: Gee, I'm a real big fan of the one-word titles, aren't I? So...this is basically just a tester. I'm not going to lie--this is definitely a "whim" fic. I just saw the possibility, and thought I'd give it a trial run, see if it interests anybody else, and hopefully continue if it gets pretty good support. As always, I appreciate con-crit: feedback in general is always nice. But, anyway, I do hope you enjoy this!_

_I kind of changed my mind about where I was going with this, but I like it. Though each chapter will be short, there will be a twist in the scenario--the Joker's role will change--but each will exist as a possible moment in his past. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: They're not mine. The quote at the beginning of the story is from "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley._

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_She tied you to her kitchen chair  
She broke your throne and cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the hallelujah_

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**Shatter**

**for the love of me.**

She cowered against the headboard, holding the comforter tightly against her body like some vain shield. Her pretty blue eyes were a mess of mascara and eyeliner and sweat, and they pleaded with him for mercy. The loud, painful moans of the man on the floor made her cringe; even at this distance, he could see the hair prick up on her arms. Her skin crawled with goosebumps; her eyes strayed for a moment to agonized form, and her entire face drained of color.

"For the love of God--"

"For the love of _who?!"_ his voice scaled the octaves, reaching some ghoulish note that made her shiver. He took a step forward, gripping the chair at her vanity and flipping it to the floor. It landed heavily on the man's head; he grunted and was still. "What about for the love of_ me,_ Gina?! What about loving _me?!"_

She attempted to steady her nervous breath as black teardrops began to slide down her face. "I do love you, baby. I do. I love you. Just please, baby--please don't hurt me. I love you. I swear I love you. I swear--"

The gunshot interrupted her, and she let out a little scream of surprise. She hadn't realized that she'd squeezed her eyes shut until she opened them to see what had happened. Joe stood there, right where he'd been standing before, with a .45 still aimed at the lifeless body on the ground. She took in deep, wheezing breaths, grappling desperately to make sense of the mess surrounding her.

"Baby--"

_"Shut up!_ Just shut up! If you say another goddamn _word,_ Gina--"

He shifted the aim of the gun over to her. She stared down the barrel, and he watched her chest rise and fall faster and faster and faster and faster. She was afraid to look up at him, afraid to move, afraid to blink. He saw her lips trembling uncontrollably, saw her shoulders wracked with sobs. But she didn't make a sound.

His jaw clenched and he blinked heavily several times. And even though her eyes were steady on the gun, she must have noticed his glare faltering, because she dared to whisper:

"Baby..."

Something in the pit of his heart exploded. Rage clouded his eyes. "'Baby'? Always 'baby.' Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, _BAY-beeee!_ Come on, _baby._ I love you, _baby._ There's no one else, _baby..."_

She closed her eyes, a few tears sliding past her eyelashes. "I'm sorry," she barely managed to mumble. "I screwed up."

"Oh-ho-ho, _baby_, there's no doubt you're screwed, or...were screwed," he chuckled, his voice straining. "Have been screwing--"

She looked at him, and something in her blue depths was no longer frightened. She was angry, infuriated, boiling. The sound of his laughter tapped on her nerves, and he liked the hatred in her eyes.

"What is this? Some kind of _sick joke?"_ she demanded hoarsely. His handsome face broke into a wide grin that would have been a strange relief to her, had it not been for his eyes. They were too bright, too buggy, too...empty. They lacked something human that she had been expecting when he looked at her.

"Yeah," he muttered, tossing the gun to the floor. It skidded across the hard wood and knocked into the wall. "I'm just _kidding."_

She sat up a little straighter, a confused frown skewing her pretty features. He crossed the room, tripping a little over the body on the floor, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She watched him reach to touch her leg, but she shifted it away. He met her eyes, and she was glaring at him.

"What's the matter, Gina? Don't like my joke?"

She swallowed, casting a glance at her dead lover. "What is _wrong_ with you? You're acting like a lunatic."

He shrugged, raking a few locks of his dark blond hair out of his face. He chuckled under his breath, but his eyes gleamed with tears. He ran his tongue over his lips and slipped his hand into his jeans pocket.

"Guy comes home early from work one day and finds his wife in bed with another man. Guy says, 'How could you? Haven't I loved you better than anyone?' She says, 'Not better than him.' So he takes out a gun and shoots him dead. Then he looks at his wife and says, 'How could you? Haven't I loved you better than anyone?' And she says--"

"Shut the hell up. We don't have time for this," she muttered. He shrugged, allowing it.

"That'll work. So he pulls out a knife and slits her throat."


	2. And the World Smiles with You

_Disclaimer: They're not mine. The quote at the beginning of the story is from "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley._

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_Maybe I've been here before  
I know this room, I've walked this floor  
I used to live alone before I knew you_

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**Shatter**

**and the world smiles with you.**

_"Mmm."_

Her satisfied sigh made him smirk. He pulled her close, resting his chin on her mess of dark, glossy strands. He could feel her fingertips tracing over his chest, drawing circles in the beads of sweat on his skin. His eyes closed, and he leaned his head against the pillow, trying to steady his breathing.

"You're _amazing,"_ she told him. "I swear, you make the world stop."

He held back a snort; that was a little dramatic, but then--she was an actress. He smiled and kissed the top of her head.

"Let's not go back to work today..."

He sighed drowsily and covered the two of them with the comforter. She groaned. "Easy for you to say, buddy. You don't have opening night in a week."

"Fine," he retorted a little childishly. "You go back to work and I'll stay here and sleep."

"It's your funeral," she murmured, bitterness lacing her tone. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table.

"What time does good old Joe get in, anyway?"

He felt her shoulders rise in a shrug, and the beginning of a word made it out of her mouth before she stopped cold. She pulled herself up and looked him in the eye.

"Did you hear something?"

The door flung open. He heard her gasp, flinching out of his arms. He swallowed uneasily and met Joe's flashing black eyes. Something in his gut turned to water.

Joe was a big man--he'd gone to watch him box once, out of curiosity. He seemed even bigger this afternoon, standing at the foot of the bed with his hands curled into hard, meaty fists. The sunlight glistened off his dark, chocolate-colored skin, making his enormous arms appear even more destructive than they had that night in the ring. His nostrils flared, and his jaw was set, but his voice was smooth and calm:

"Gina. I got home early today."

She trembled, clenching the comforter to her chest. "J-Joe...baby--"

The large, muscled man strode to his side of the bed, holding out his hand to the gangly, white stranger sitting in his place. "Name's Joe Durham. And you are?"

He smacked his lips, starting to scramble out of the mess of sheets. "Leaving--"

The boxer laughed humorlessly, taking a hold of his shoulder and shoving him up against the headboard. He swallowed hard, he gaze flickering between his lover's husband and the door.

"Well, Mr. Leaving, I do hope you weren't about to rush off on account of me."

His Adam's apple jerked, and his eyes pled with the unreadable gaze staring him down. "Look, man, I didn't know--"

Her voice again, bleating: "Joe--"

"Hey, cracker, loosen up a little. Smile, you know--and the world smiles with you. One thing my mama always told me: she said, there's no use gettin' mad over somethin' that can be made right. Now look at me, I'm smilin'. And it's been one lousy motherfuckin' day."

Joe smiled wide, flashing his array of white...and gold teeth. He looked at him expectantly. "Come on, now. If I can smile about this, you can."

He cleared his throat nervously and forced a smile. Joe chuckled low in his throat, and something stupid in the back of his mind relaxed. But Joe's sudden, sadistic frown dissintegrated any hope that may have been previously rising in his chest. He was too scared to notice the knife Joe had inched out of his pocket until it was inches away from his face.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Leaving, but that just ain't good enough. Let's put a _real_ nice big smile on your face."


	3. We're Findin' the Ace

_Author's Note: I hope we're not all too confused! This story is all one scenario. I wanted to tell a story the way the Joker would tell it--by mingling facts and fiction until it's something different entirely. _

_Disclaimer: They're not mine. The quote at the beginning of the story is from "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley._

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_Maybe there's a God above  
But all I've ever learned from love  
Was how to shoot at somebody who outdrew you_

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**Shatter**

**we're findin' the ace.**

The cards snap against the table as he re-shuffles the deck.

I stare at the man's hands. He looks up at me and smiles. He has a nice smile. Big, white teeth--all straight and shiny like a movie star's. He spreads all the cards out on the table. They look like a fan. I just watch.

"How old are you, son?"

"Eight."

And he smiles again.

He says his name is Mr. Canton, but Mom calls him Roger. He sells vacuum machines. He comes over almost every afternoon, and he shows me magic tricks. He's good at magic.

"So what are you going to make disappear today?" Mom is smiling, too. It's funny because Dad says Mom never smiles. But she smiles when Mr. Canton is here.

He kind of shrugs his shoulders. He's got big shoulders, like a pro wrestler, except not that big. He reminds me of Superman. I think he reminds Mom of Superman, too.

"We're not making anything disappear, Jo."

He used to call Mom Mrs. Just Mrs. But now he calls her Jo. Dad calls her Joanne, sometimes. But it makes her frown. So he mostly just calls her Dear.

"We're findin' the ace," I tell her. She smiles.

"Alright now, son. Pick a card, any card."

So I do. And it's the ace. I can't believe it! It's the ace of spades. He smiles at me again.

"Wow!"

He kind of laughs. Mom touches my hair. I don't like it when she does that, but I let her because she's at least smiling now.

"Why don't you go outside and play now?"

Mom always asks me to do that, after Mr. Canton's magic trick. So I go outside like I always do, 'cause it's nice out and anyway I saw a snake by the porch and I wanna see if it's still there. I lay down in the dirt by the porch and try to see what's under there. It's dark and dusty and smells. But I want to see that snake so bad, I don't care.

"What are you doing under there?"

It's Dad. He makes me jump when he says that. I was just so worried about the snake. I start to tell him about it, but he's worried about Mr. Canton's car.

"Whose is that?"

I'm going to tell him. I am. But his voice is so angry, that I'm too scared to say anything. He runs into the house. I want to go inside, too. But Mom told me to play outside. So I go to find a stick to maybe poke at the snake or...or hook him or something, so I could hold him.

I walk to the back of the house to find a stick, but I hear noises by the window. I want to know what's going on...and I'll still be outside if I stand by the window. So I listen.

"Joanne!"

I hear my mother scream.

"Hey!" Mr. Canton sounds angry. _"Hey!_ Don't you hit her! Hit _me,_ damnit! _Hit me!..._Jo, are you okay? Are you alright?"

I can't see through the curtains. But I can hear fighting. I think my dad and Mr. Canton are fighting. And I don't know who I want to win.

And then the window explodes. The pieces fly at my face! The sharp glass pieces!

_EverythinghurtsIhurtIwantmymomIwanttonothurtmakeitnothurtmakeitnot--_

_"MOM!"_

I can hear her crying.


End file.
